Call Us Idiots, Will You?
by insanelaughtler
Summary: Because Italy is an Evil mastermind and America's a technology prodigy. And they're pretty fed up with the world.
1. Chapter 1

"Thank the heavens!" Alfred muttered to himself as England finally got out of his house. He had to sit through an entire day, one night, and most of his morning listening to England rant and whine about his various faults. Blah, blah, blah, messing up the Queen's English, blah, blah, blah, overweight, blah, blah, blah, you git, blah, blah, freaking blah.

In all truth, he's never been brought down by people constantly pointing out his faults and such. It's called ignoring the atmosphere, _duh_. It was only really annoying to him. Except for when Canada's the one yelling at him. When _Canada_ rants at him he gets upset since the violet eyed nation was one of the only nations he actually cared for. Then again, nothing's ever been the same since Canada burned down his beloved capital in 1814. The filthy backstabber. All Alfred had tried to do was help Canada escape from Britain! Surely a couple of burned buildings and the Parliament wasn't that bad in the long run…

Sighing to himself he shook his head, it really wouldn't do for him to get too upset. If he got too angry then he might lose himself and completely break his façade. And that wouldn't do at all.

Grumbling still he went to the back of his house, like the very, very, _very_ back part of the house. (It was a huge house, several people gotten lost huge house, found human bones huge house…) At the very, very, _very_ back of the house was nothing very impressive… So he passed along the art studio, made a left at the shark aquarium, didn't even acknowledge the space-time continuum distortion generator, completely ignored the gravitational field disrupter, paused to correct the way the vase was sitting, then tripped over- _was that another pile of bones?!_

As he avoided landing on his face, because that's what hands are for, he yelled, "Get a cleaner droid down here! We have another pile of- what is this?- human bones down here!"

His own voice, recorded of course, answered from the walls, "Acknowledged."

"And make a sweep on the rest of the house! I am sick of running into them again! My hands hurt!"

"Acknowledged."

A sweep of blue light cast over him as the detectors began their search. It headed down the hall and out of sight. Showing that the computer he had running his house indeed acknowledged him.

Now, in an even worse mood, he stomped down the rest of the hall to the most important thing in the back of his house.

The broom closet.

As he opened the door he saw a multitude of old fashioned wooden brooms lined along the wall of the small space. Each were plain and ordinary, made by the hands of nobodies not living any sort of life at all, and-

He wasn't there for the brooms.

Sweeping them aside he came to the truly important thing in there. The chest in the back.

Upon opening one would see over his very well sculpted shoulders that there was-

Nothing in the box.

Like, legit.

Nothing.

Not even a bottom.

So, being America, he put one leg in and called out over his shoulder, "Clean this up after me, okay?"

"Acknowledged."

And down the chest hole he went.

* * *

At the end of the five minute drop he skillfully used the wall to propel himself forwards and away from the cage at the bottom of the fall.

To land in another one.

"Programm!" He screamed to the computer now obviously named Programm, "Get me out of here, pronto!"

"Acknowledged."

The front part of the cage swung open to let Alfred out. He could have just torn the bars off, but that would mean that he had to get them fixed. And, of course, it'd really be Programm getting it fixed but-

After getting out of the cage he opened the maximum security door with a yell to Programm and went to the room beyond.

His world control room.

What most people didn't know was that he was in control of all technology in the world since the light bulb was made and mass produced. And even more so since the creation of the Internet.

Too bad he could never use this in war because of a Hero's morals…

Not that he was one.

Because it was a ruse made by his partner.

And here was his partner now.

"Greetings, America," His partner greeted, now apparently on the comfy swivel chair facing the huge hologram screen. In a totally James Bond cliché he slowly turned around to face America while stroking a white cat.

Italy smiled at him.

"I was wondering when you'd get down here… Are you ready for phase one of taking over the world?"

* * *

**I do not own Hetalia.**

**Okay, for any of my ****Through The Eyes of an ExAmerican**** readers, this was the roleplay I was talking about. My friend is allowing me to publish this, thankfully. I will update as soon as she writes her part.**

**One more thing, if you haven't already noticed, the writing style between this and ****Through The Eyes of an ExAmerican**** is pretty different. So if you liked that writing style, you might not like this one.**


	2. Chapter 2

Italy spun in his chair quietly staring at the screens placed in front of him. The cat leaped up and scratched Italy in the face and he pushed itself off of his lap with a gut holding push.

"Non mi piace! (1)" Italy yelled, seemingly falling off his chair, quickly, he regained his own posture and sat in his chair once again. Taking in an unsteady breath, he pointed to the world map with a ruler he got from absolutely nowhere.

"We-a should take the countries one-a by one; all-a at once-a would be-a rather difficult, seemingly Russia…" He mumbled the last part softly, softly running his ruler over the screen lightly to Russia.

"We-a will leave-a out fratello's (2) if you-a want; South-a Italy isn't a vital place-a to take hold of-a so he can be-a dismissed." Italy explained looking towards the map in a calculating gaze, evaluating any and all problems. "For-a now,"

"I-a realize a bit of-a defense would be-a good for my-a country, I-a can-a make out the drawings of-a mass war devises; we-a are wonderful artists after all-a." Italy smirked slightly, glancing towards America. He knew none would even dare to call him foolish after this.

"And the-a hero has to-a save the people; even-a from themselves, si?" Italy asked rhetorically. America nodded anyhow and leaned against the cold metal near the screens, scanning his eyes over the mass of information about the different countries on the others screens placed next to the map.

"I have the technology stored to the point where nuclear power and significant bio-warfare could be used." America stated running his finger over the keys typing in codes quickly he targeted two countries. Germany and England.

"Dude, you can take Germany right? Persuade him to drop his defenses?" The American asked, returning to the position he was in before hand, leaning himself on the cold metal.

"Si, of course," Italy reassured leaning back in his chair, relaxing a bit. "England though, I-a thought he-a does not like you-a very much?" Italy observed on the screen with all of England's data. Italian spies can be useful, especially when countries want information.

"He totally doesn't have the power to take us, and he's not really as smart as he says he is," America's eyes held a bit of sorrow and resentment as he said so.

Italy noticed this and cleared his throat loudly. "Anything else you-a want to discuss-a?"

"Oh yeah, dude." America remembered something at the moment; he briskly pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Italy. Feliciano looked it over and smiled. "Where'd you-a find this?"

"One of my dudes, Ben Franklin, I think, gave it to me a while ago," Alfred shrugged lightly and Italy looked over the blue prints for something rather great.

"Do you-a realize what-a this is?" Italy asked, taking his eyes off the paper to glance at America quickly before returning them glued to the same spot on the paper.

"It's a mind-control device!"

* * *

**I do not own Hetalia.**

**I didn't forget about this! No, my RP partner got a case of writers block. She's easily subjected to this writing illness so updates on this story are shaky. She also has a hard time writing more than 200 words. I said 500 words minimum. She wrote 502...**

**She wrote Italy with a ridiculous Mario accent.**

**Okay, the last line is spoken by America if that's not clear.**

**(1) I don't like**

**(2) brothers**


	3. Chapter 3

Italy stared with his jaw dropped at America. America had a faint notion of why but pushed it away. He had other things to think about. Like robots.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Italy asked, still shocked at what he found.

"Um… sorta forgot…" America grinned sheepishly, scratching his head and looking away. Was he really supposed to remember these things?

Italy sighed, facepalming, "How did you forget it all this time? How long have we been working together?"

"Over two hundred years?" America mumbled; he should really stop procrastinating. Italy always got on him about that. Swiftly he perked back up, "Oh! Wait a second! I did tell you once!"

"When?" Italy exclaimed.

"Then I accidently used to device to make you forget…"

"What?"

"Then there was that other time that showed you during a trip to France! Then made you forget…"

"Ameri-"

"And that time in aquarium! But I think I kinda erased your mind…"

"Seriously?"

"Oh! And that- no, same thing happened. How about- That didn't work out very well… And that time we were eating ice cream about a decade years ago! I didn't make you forget that time!"

"But I don't remember that."

"Yeah, you got a concussion from a flying sombrero."

"What?"

"Well, it was a rather breezy Tuesday and I wanted ice-cream so you decided to take us out to the movie theaters when we ran into traffic near Sear's- black Friday, you know?- when this shady guy in a tube top sold us some pink ice-cream when-"

"That's enough… You must tell me of these things _when_ they happen-"

"But I-"

"And _not_ wipe my mind afterwards!" Italy yelled.

"Oh… sorry…"

Italy grumbled, glaring at America before returning to the blue prints he had been given, "Hmm… These seem… Wait a second! America! Who gave this to you?"

"Oh, old Ben, ya know, Benjamin Franklin. He's dead now. Great guy."

"Really?" Italy mumbled off-handedly, concentrating on the paper on his hand.

"Yeah, well, if you ignore his habits of, erm, doing _stuff_ with a _lot_ of women and being a cheater and digging up graves and-"

"Shut up. Please."

"Shutting up."

"This… this wasn't- Franklin didn't make these plans himself did he?" Italy narrowed his eyes, trying to remember why they gave him vague feelings of recognition. He was pretty sure it wasn't from the mind wiping. He hoped.

"That's what you said at that time at the aquarium," America cocked his head to the side, pondering the old conversation, "I think you said- yeah, you said that Leonardo guy had it."

That struck a chord in Italy's mind. The years of friendship and working with the human flooded his mind. Leonardo da Vinci was one of the only humans he ever found worthwhile in his centuries of existence. The man had been a genius- and had seen right through his disguise. Of course, at first it had frightened and almost angered him, being found out by a _human_ of all people but the anger had been quickly replaced by respect and admiration as he came to know the man. The ideas he had, ridiculous at the time, were ingenious, and Italy knew that. The man had been centuries ahead of his time and sometimes, in more recent times, Italy would read through the hidden journals he took after the man's death and wonder if he was a seer.

Part of their comradeship was because Leonardo was the only one who could even hope to rival him in intelligence and skill, and the only one ever would. Einstein, Newton, he respected the men, but they never felt like Leonardo to him. He longed for more of a challenge in his monotone life.

His eyes flicked over to the American that had become bored at Italy's internal monologue and was splayed across the swivel chair, napping with a bit of drool coming out of his mouth.

Even America could not match their intelligence- but that boy was in a class of his own. He did have his 'blond' moments, and his plans seemed impractical and ridiculous, it was true, but so were da Vinci's and all geniuses ahead of their time. One day, when the two of them could accumulate enough time and resources, resources were rapidly disappearing on Earth, he'd let the boy invent to his heart's desire. The boy was years into a future that no one could predict- and the alien,Tony, only enhanced that fact.

Then there was the fact that he gave that feeling of power and etherealness, even for a personification. That's what had first drawn Italy to the other nation. The super strength even before his country developed and the pure power it turned into after he grew up. Britain and Spain, even after those whole 'Empire on which the sun never sets' things grew powerful, but not with super strength. And Russia had been weak when he was born, and only growing into the power when his country grew stronger. None of them were like him.

Even animals could sense the potential in the blond nation. As a child, animals would flock to him until he learned to control whatever pheromone he gave off. Even then, there was that whole whale incident. How he managed to communicate with a whale was beyond the Italian man; he knew that most animals were smarter than given credit for, but America had used English, slang as well, and didn't even follow the vocal patterns found by researchers. Italy had forbidden him from ever doing something like that again in the open.

Thinking about that, it was Italy's fault for America's reputation as an incompetent brainless idiot. He didn't want anyone else to learn of the power residing inside of the childish nation. The people who knew him in his earlier years, especially France, blamed the fact that he turned out so on England, which was fine with Italy. As long as they believed that young, curious, intelligent boy was gone nobody would ever see it coming…

Screaming filled the lair as the nation centering his thoughts evidently began to have a nightmare about ghosts. Italy sighed and walked over to comfort him, patting his head. The fear of ghosts got in the way sometimes, even if Italy got the sneaking suspicion that he could actually see them…

"America… America wake up," He said, nudging the other nation out of his nightmare. He groaned silently to himself as a pair of arms locked around him in a vice like grip as the other tried to assure himself that he was fine. In attempt to distract the other he tried to carry on the conversation from before while still patting his head, "What did Benjamin Franklin tell you about the device?"

America tilted his head, shaking the fogginess out of his head, "Apparently he was given it. I can't remember all of it but Ben told me that he just fixed and modified it."

Italy looked at him and stopped patting his head, it was just like the boy to not pay attention to the important things. Everyone knew that the blond had a terrible memory and of course he'd forget something like this. And Italy just knew- that he wasn't everyone.

A hand struck out to hit the other across the face but was swiftly blocked by one of the arms that were previously wrapped around him.

"What the hell, man?" America hissed glaring straight into his eyes. He felt a brief rush of pride as his former unofficial charge so quickly reacted.

Italy looked coolly at him, ignoring the fact that the other man was much stronger than he could ever dream to be and already had him in a hold, "You liar."

"What the hell do you mean?" America growled, tightening his grip on the other, not that Italy worried, he'd never hurt him.

"You have a perfect, photographic memory, even if you are absent minded. You know what he told you," Italy said coldly, pushing away from the other, knowing that America let him go, and crossing his arms.

"I don't have to tell you anything," America said defiantly sitting back into the swivel chair and also crossing his arms, glaring back at the older nation, "You don't even have to remember any of this in a couple seconds. You forget who controls this device."

This only caused the feelings of cold anger to intensify as Italy seethed, "How many times do I have to tell you that the only reason you got this far is because of me? I taught you power and gave you people- my own people- to use it. You're nothing without me. I had the master plan for centuries, you should be glad I was considerate enough to include you as well. You never even realized your potential without me. I could have crushed you if I wanted to and I still can now and-" He broke off, and then smiled, "You followed my orders rather well."

America quickly wiped all emotions off his face and instead raised an eyebrow.

"You were just following some previous instructions I made, weren't you?" Italy laughed to himself at his own stupidity, "You were waiting for me to realize it myself. I'm sorry for overreacting- you know how I hate yelling at you."

America grinned back in return, "I don't like acting like that either, Italy. Glad you realized, I thought that I'd have to mind-wipe you again. You don't know how long I've been wanting to tell you-"

"That I'm the one who gave you the device."

* * *

**We do not own Hetalia.**

**And so I ditched you guys for what? 3 months? You can blame me entirely. I'll tell you how this works. We, my RP partner and I don't actually RP, we just write one chapter and the other would write the other, get it? Like, technically I was supposed to RP for America but this chapter was in Italy's POV.**

**Ah... I'm so horrible. All my other stories haven't updated in months... I'm sorry guys... My RP partner has been yelling at me. She's Awesome Person 1234 by the way. She cooks horrible but is an AWESOME baker, just saying.**

**Please review! We're so happy with all the attention this is getting- 30+ review for 2 chapters? I'm crying tears of joy here.**


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